Accidental Hero
by Millie M. Banshee
Summary: Implied dark themes. This is your warning. Pitch usually turns a blind eye to the horrible things he sees happening to children via their own families. However, this time he can't look away. For some strange reason one little girl catches his eyes. Shes an asthmatic living with an abusive father. Will he just sit back and watch or will he be an accidental hero? Viewer discretion.


Accidental Hero

One Shot

(A/N Sorry, I'm a big Pitch fan. Thought about making a story that would be a little out of his element! Just something new. I wanted to make a short story. No chapters. _**Again this is a warning to all those about read this story. There are a lot of implied themes that are disturbing but they are only implied.**_)

**SOUNDS/sounds**

_Thoughts_

* * *

It had been three months since he had been defeated and forced back in his hole. To say Pitch Black was angry would have been an understatement. It took him a while to fight off his own fearlings and get everything back to the way it was. Not to mention just recover in general. He still hadn't regenerated his tooth do lack of energy. The gap was irritating.

He'd have to build himself back up. Unfortunately it would be from rock bottom. Luckily there were always children and children had fears. Fear was always present but it was the fear of him that he needed. He would have to result to his old tricks to get that fear. He was not looking forward to it but it needed to be done.

Right now he was just a shadow. Hardly any form. How he hated being this way. It was the guardians' fault! It was night now and he made his way out of one of his many holes to the aboveground. It was a new moon tonight. Perfect. He made his way into the nearest town and clung to all of the shadows. It being summer people were outside and children were up later do to not having any school. Oh, how much fun this would be.

He made his way to a dimly lit neighborhood and had a look around. This was going to be good. He dashed from house to house using the shadows. He spotted a couple of kids playing on the front porch with some toy cars. The only light was coming from a distant a street lamp and light from the windows. The porch was a pretty dark place. Not too bad of a place to start.

He started out slowly. He got under the porch and started scratching on the boards the boys were sitting on. Long, deep scratches. They stopped playing of course and looked down at the planks of wood. It had stopped. They cautiously went back to playing. Pitch started again this time a little harder.

They boys jumped to their feet and looked at the boards. Then with one mighty thump from under their feet the boys let out a scream and quickly raced into the comfort of their home. That was easy. He'd have to come back to them later. The seed was planted but he needed to plant a few more to do any real good. He left that house and went around looking for a few more children to terrorize.

He managed to get one girl who had snuck out to play on her swing set and another two children camping out in their backyard. He even managed to get their French bull dog. One more house he figured would be fine for now. He at least had his face and hands back to normal then rest still looked like a shadow. He really didn't have the energy to do more than these few children. He stopped at a house sitting on the corner of two streets. Nice place. Not for long, however.

Utilizing the shadows of a nearby tree Pitch climbed into an opened window. Jackpot. A little girl about 8 or so was sleeping in her bed. This would be his first real target for the evening. He made his way across the room to the bed. How sweet. It looked like the Sandman had already been by. As much as he wanted to interfere directly with the dream he could not in his current state. He'd have to resort to other things.

He easily slid under the girl's bed. He noticed it was remarkable clean under there. Other than some dust bunnies and a couple of pencils there were no toys. How odd. So much for using the girl's own toys against her. He had other ideas though. Some of her covers had slid off the foot of her bed. He reached out and started to gently pull on the covers. Little by little they came off. He heard the girl shift and yank the covers back, before settling back down. Again Pitch grabbed the covers and pulled. She shift again in her bed and pulled on the covers again except Pitch wasn't letting go. He pulled against her this time.

She let out little yelp, letting the covers go all together. Pitch pulled the rest of the covers off the bed. She was scared. That's just what he needed out of her. What to do with her now? He started scratching into the hardwood floor, like he had done to those boys earlier. It worked. She let out a scream and raced for the door. Oh, how her fear felt wonderful to him. She would return shortly with a parent. He'd just have to wait for the classic "monster's aren't real" line, wait for the parent to leave, and start over again. Then he'd go back to a couple houses he was at earlier.

Sounds of crying were heard from downstairs followed by angry yelling. That was… Huh? The crying got louder followed by pounding footsteps. He saw the feet of the girl rush in and shut the door. She didn't have time to even lock it before the adult came into the room.

"Get back to bed, you little piece of shit," the adult, a man, yelled.

"B-but, Papa," she cried.

"Get back the bed!" snapped her, before jerking her across the floor and shoved her into the bed. "Don't come back downstairs. Especially when I have a woman over!"

He then turned around and slammed the door. The girl was left alone crying on her bed. This was new… Actually, no… No, it wasn't. He had seen it many times before. The darker side of childhood. Well, now… What was he to do? Do what he did best. He started scratching at the floor again. This resulted in the girl crying harder.

"SHUT UP, YOU BRAT," he father yelled from farther down hall.

This of course only resulted in her crying even harder and louder. It then sounded like she was having a hard time breathing. She was coughing and gasping badly. The door flew open again and slammed against the wall.

"I said to shut up, Emily! Shut that mouth of yours or I will shut it for you," he yelled at her. "I have a woman over for the night! I don't need your insidious whining to ruin it!"

"B-b-but I-I **gasp** I can't br-breathe **gasp,**" she choked out, holding her crest.

"Can't breathe? You did it to yourself with your damn crying," he snapped at her.

He disappeared for a moment and then returned. He stopped at the doorway and threw something at her before slamming the door again. The item overshot her and hit opposite wall. When it hit the floor it spun a couple of times. It was an inhaler. The girl weakly got out of her bed and grabbed the inhaler. Pitch listened as she used it a couple times. Wow, that man wasn't winning father of the year.

Figuring he wanted this girl to live he might just want to move on for now. A child was no good to him dead. So he left the same way he had entered. She was still struggling to breathe as he left her room. Humans in some ways were even meaner and darker than he was. He turned to look at the house again. He let out a breath and decided to see if those two brats went back to their tent in the backyard.

* * *

By the end of the week Pitch was back to his full form and his tooth had finally started to push in through his gum. Well, that was a relief. He was thinking of expanding his reign a little more. He had enough power now to start making nightmares again. As things usually do one kid tells another kid scaring that kid in return. So he ended this week with more kids than what he started with. However, this was nowhere near what he needed. He figured he'd hit this town one last time before moving on to another one. He didn't need to catch the Guardians' eyes.

For some odd reason he wanted to see that little girl again. What was her name? Emma? No… Ah, yes, Emily. He hadn't seen her since that first night. Again her window was open and he used the shadow of the tree to get in. There she was fast asleep with a golden dream floating over her head. How sweet. She was a princess in her dream petting a unicorn. However, every princess needs a dragon to take her away and eat her.

With one little poke of his finger the gold unicorn turned into a toothy black dragon. He watched her face contort in fear as she started to become restless in her sleep. Now this was so much sweeter. He watched a few minutes before he noticed the dragon turned into her father.

"Well, this is interesting," he muttered, rubbing his chin.

He was yelling at her. Nothing new there. From what he saw the other day this was a normal occurrence. He was about to turn it back into a dragon when he started to see other things form in the dreams. Her dad was hitting her with his hand and then with a belt. Over and over again. This was far worse than any imaginary dragon. He looked at the girl to see that her arm was bruised and she had a couple of cuts on her swollen lips. While these scenes played Pitch took a seat on her bed and had a look around the room. There no were pictures on the walls and it was unusually clean. There were barely any toys and most of those looked broken.

Pitch turned to look back at Emily and the nightmare. He saw other kids about her age taunting her. One of them is even holding her inhaler up out of her reach. Even at school she gets it. He set his jaw, watching more scenes linked to her memories rather than her imagination. Her blond hair was knotted and it clung to her sweating face.

"Enough," Pitch sighed, waving his hand through the horrid memories, dispersing them.

He pushed up off the bed and walked soundlessly around her dark room. He was right. Most of these toys were broken. He remembered seeing a few of these at North's workshop. He picked up a few to look at them and then set them back down. He walked towards the window to leave. There was nothing he could do even if he wanted to. Not that he actually wanted to. He'd seen it so many times before it had no effect on him. This was going to happen to children many times over. It was a horrible fact but it happened. He turned to leave and looking up at the waxing moon and snorted.

"And just what are you looking at?" Pitch grumbled, glaring at the moon.

Pitch was about the leap out the window when the light from the moon shifted. So MiM wanted to talk to him? Ha. Not happening. He was about to leap out of the window when he heard gasping and wheezing coming from behind him. He slowly turned to see Emily sitting up holding her chest, searching for her inhaler on the bedside table. He heard it hit the floor and watched her slide off her bed looking for it. She couldn't see in the darkness so she started frantically feeling for it.

Pitch continued to watch her struggle on the floor and then gave the moon a sideways glance. Really? Pitch let out an annoyed snort. MiM wanted him to help this child? What a joke. He turned to leave again but paused. He snarled a bit clinching his fists

"Okay! Fine but just this once," he barked at the moon, turning back to the gasping child.

He walked up to her and easily found the inhaler behind her. He picked it up and dropped it in her lap. She quickly picked it up and started to use the inhaler as best she could. She quickly turned expecting to see her father but she found something else entirely. It was a tall, lanky man dresses in black, and he was backlit by the moon. His gold eyes shone brightly against the shadows obscuring on his face. Her heart dropped into her gut as she stared at the form before her.

He quickly turned and headed towards the window again. That was all he was going to do. She had her inhaler and he was leaving. MiM be damned if thought he'd do anything more than that. The girl had her breathing contraption and he was going to keep moving. He had other houses to enter and other children to terrorize.

"Th-thank you," she choked out as Pitch vanished into the shadow of the tree.

He landed quickly and propelled himself through the shadows until he was standing in a very dark alleyway. That pathetic girl-child actually thanked him? She thanked the Nightmare King? He snorted and the folded his hands together behind his back as he started to pace the dirty alley.

"Ridiculous. Thanking me? Stupid brat! All I did was hand her that silly inhaler. I should be feared not appreciated," he grumbled, looking at the ground before stopping and looked up at the moon that was now shinning into alley. "I blame this one on you! And I would really like it if you'd stop following me! I only did it because you insisted and the girl was in need of a little assistance! However, that was a onetime thing! It's never going to happen again! So don't even think about it!"

Pitch leaned up against a dumpster, crossing his arms. The nerve of MiM. Really. Making him save that girl. How idiotic. He kicked at an old soda can in frustration but it ricocheted off the alley wall, beaming him in the face. That was not enjoyable. He rubbed his sore nose. The moonlight still hadn't left the alley. And now it was just embarrassing and irritating. Pitch pushed off the dumpster and ducked back into the shadows away from the moonlight. He needed to do the last of his rounds before he moved on to another location. He didn't have time to mess with MiM or that little girl.

* * *

A couple more months had past and it was late summer and fall would soon be taking over as the season. Pitch was doing rather well now. He managed to regain control of all of his fearlings and even made a few more. It was nice being back. Grant it he still wasn't at his stride but given everything he was happy to be where he was. Even better yet, he now had a full set of teeth. That he was thankful for that.

Now that he had his fearlings doing some of his work he didn't have to go out so much anymore. That was nice. It gave him a break. However, tonight against his better judgment he decided to go back to the aboveground to check on that girl-child. He had forgotten her name at this point but he did remember where she lived. He didn't know why he wanted to check on her but he did.

As usual he became one with the shadows and made his way to her house. The window was closed tonight. There was a chance of rain. It didn't bother him in anyway. He entered her room with no problems. However, this evening she was not in her bed. It was nearly 10 and most children her age were in bed. How odd. He had a look around the room again. It looked like just about all of her toys had been removed save for only a couple that were badly damaged. One was even a plastic horse missing three legs and its tail hair had been ripped out.

He started towards the bedroom door when he heard something shift in the closet. Was she hiding in there? Using the shadows he found himself sitting next the cowering girl under a pile of clothes. She looked pretty bad. She was hiding from her father now. He knew the girl couldn't see him in the dark but she could sense she was no longer alone. Her heart quickly started to race and she ducked deeper into her pile of clothes. She suddenly felt a hand covering her mouth.

"Don't scream," Pitch said calmly, covering her mouth to keep her from doing just that. "Shhhhh… Don't run either."

Pitch slowly removed his hand from the shaking girl. She certainly had a look of terror on her face as she looked into blackness of her closet for the voice. She didn't like this. She knew it wasn't her father but that still didn't change the fact someone was currently with her. Tears started to slide down her face. Pitch should have expected this would happen. She couldn't see him and she didn't want to leave the safety of her locked closet either. Pitch let out a long sigh and looked at the bruises and cuts she had on her face.

"How did you get those?" he asked, lightly touching her face as she jerked back.

"I don't w-wanna talk about it," she mumbled into her pile of clothing. "Go away and don't touch me!"

"Your father did this to you?" Pitch said it more as a statement than as a question.

She just huddled down more in her clothing fort. Pitch then heard a noise coming for the hall. Stumbling feet and slurred cursing. It was her father and he was drunk. Pitch hissed a bit as the bedroom door tore open.

"EEEEMILY," he yelled out, looking for the girl. "C'mer… C'mer, girl!"

Emily remained quiet as she heard her father stumble around her dark room. He started throwing things about the room, cussing all the while. Pitch just sat with her until her father stumbled to the closet door. He tried the door handle but it was locked. He then started pounding the door.

"Bitch, open dis door! C'mon, open it! You—you little bitch," he yelled at the door pounding on it. "Just because I fell asleep… Ugh… Doesn't mean ya're supposed to leave my bed! I weren't finished with ya just yet."

Pitch jaw nearly hit the floor. He turned to look back at Emily. He knew it was bad, he didn't know it was this bad. Honestly, how vile was this man? He honestly didn't want to know. For some odd reason he had made his dealing with this girl-child personal. He never did this before and he didn't have any reason to get attached to any snotty nosed children. He wasn't supposed to care what happened but for some odd reason this girl was different. He'd seen it all before over the centuries but to protect a child was never his thing.

Finally the irate man tore the door open, breaking the doorframe, and yanked the panicked Emily out from her clothing fort. She tried to pull against him but he dragged her along the floor. She looked back into her closet to see the outline of someone getting to their feet.

"Help me, please," she cried, scratching at her father's hands, looking desperately into the closet. "Please! Don't let him take me back!"

"Who ya talking to, twat? Ya're damn boogie man, ya been… T-talking about?" the father spat out, pulling her out of her room and into the hall. "He ain't real! STOP FIGHTING ME!"

With her free hand she grabbed the door frame. He quickly ripped her fingers loose and continued dragging her down the hall to his room. Pitch followed her to the door. Her nails had torn off the paint from the frame. Normally he would and should just walk away from this. Getting involved with a child was a bad idea. It would be his undoing. Pitch watched as her father her pulled her into his room and slammed the door shut.

However, he had never made anything personal until now. That bastard wasn't going to get away with this any longer. Pitch quickly used the shadows to enter his room. A rumble of thunder was heard outside. The man had the girl pinned to the bed. Pitch didn't know how to go about this. Without the man believing in him Pitch couldn't do too much against the man. However, the girl did and he could move objects.

The father quickly started to take his underwear off. Pitch acted instantly. Any item he could his long gray fingers on he started throwing at the man. The man quickly backed off after being assaulted by the items in his room. He couldn't understand what was happening.

"What the fuck is going on?" the man yelled, covering his head from the flying objects. "OWW! What da hell's going on?"

Emily quickly pushed herself up and got to her feet. She was getting out of there. However, the door was locked. She quickly turned the little dial to unlock it. No sooner did she get the door open that it was slammed shut with her father leaning on it.

"No you don't, Emily," he snapped, reaching for her.

However, she was jettisoned upwards towards the ceiling. With the girl believing in him, Pitch could touch her. Also being on the ceiling meant she was now out of her father's reach. However, pitch needed to get to that door. She was a solid living being and he was not. He couldn't just take her with him. He then noticed she was starting to have an asthma attack. Of all the rotten luck. No telling where her inhaler was and he couldn't just ditch her to look for it.

"How are ya doing that?" the father asked, rubbing his blurred eyes, looking up at his daughter hanging from the ceiling. "Get back down—down here! RIGHT NOW!"

He seemed to be oblivious to her having an attack. Then again if he was taking such liberties with his daughter why would he care about her having an asthma attack? If nothing else he could get her outside via the window. He could do that much for her. It would take a little bit of time to get downstairs and outside. Pitch quickly took off with Emily towards the window.

"Open it," Pitch ordered her and she fumbled with the lock.

He father would have been there in only a few quick strides but he stumbled over the items that had been tossed at him previously. Emily finally undid the latch and pushed up the window. It was only getting harder for her to breath. Pitch quickly brought her down to the grassy ground. The wind was starting to pick up and lightning flashed overhead. Great, just what they didn't need at the moment.

"Where is your inhaler?" Pitch asked, grabbing her shoulders.

"**GASP** B-book bag **GASP**," she gasped out as Pitch quickly dashed into the house.

He needed to find her book bag and fast. It wasn't by the front door. He looked in the living room. Dammit where was it? He heard the father charging down the steps. Oh, no he didn't. Pitch quickly went after him. As soon as the man hit the runner at the base of the steps Pitch pulled it from under the man's feet. He fell over backwards landing on the steps in pain and somewhat out of it. That bought him a little more time. Pitch then checked the girl's room. There it was on the desk. He quickly started tearing through the bag. Just how many pockets do these things have? There were pockets inside of pockets. Good greif!

"Ah," he gasped with a grin. The inhaler was finally in his hand.

He quickly moved along the shadows back outside to where the girl was. She was having a really bad attack from the looks of things. He didn't know what else to do but give her the inhaler. He handed it to her and she quickly used it. The first few drops of rain started to fall from the angry sky. He knew nothing much of asthma other than it makes it hard for someone to breathe.

He noticed her lips were turning a strange shade of blue. That wasn't good, he knew that much. A moment later the sound of sirens filled the air. Maybe a neighbor had heard the commotion and called the authorities. Sure enough they stopped just outside the house. Well, thank goodness for… Hey, wait she was around on this side of the house. They were trying to get inside. They didn't even know she was out there. Pitch heard them break the door in.

He couldn't tell them anything. Of all the rotten… He didn't know what to do. Her inhaler didn't seem to be working and she didn't have the strength to call or go after them. He would have to carry her to them. She didn't seem too with it and she looked like she was in a great deal of pain. He quickly picked her up and sat her down on the porch swing. A fire truck pulled up not long after. They quickly started to unload and rush inside.

One of the firemen paused after hearing something on the front porch. He turned to see a young girl gasping for air on the swing. He quickly rushed over to her as others rushed inside. Pitch watched and stayed for a while until she was taken off in an ambulance. Well, now… That was enough excitement for one night. The rain was still coming down in buckets as he left the area.

Hero duty wasn't his thing and he wasn't planning on making a habit of it. It was accident as far as he was concerned. He just got caught up in the moment. He might as well go home and get out of the storm. He let out a long sigh and made his way back into his dark but dry hole. The girl he hoped would be fine now that she was in the hands of better people. He knew they would get the father on so many charges it wouldn't be funny.

* * *

A couple of days passed and Emily sat in the hospital room, watching the TV. It was nice not live in fear. She had bandages all over and she had devices monitoring her heart and oxygen levels. Some of her schoolmates had dropped off get-well letters and flowers. She had also seen enough police and social service people to sink a battleship. She told them her story repeatedly. They had enough evidence to lock her father away for a very long time. However, they didn't seem to believe her when she told them about the Boogie Man helping her.

Her psychiatrists wrote it off as imagination. It was her way of protecting herself. She made up a friend that would protect her from her father. However, her choice of friends was a little odd. Really? The Boogie Man? Of all things she could have picked to "protect" her she chose him. To her the Boogie Man was a better person than her father and in all honestly that might be true. They figured she wanted someone scary to scare off her father.

Emily let out a yawn as her eyes started to feel heavy. Her eyes were almost closed when she saw something out of the corner of her eye. She turned and saw nothing. She sighed looking up at the TV again. She then heard something beside her. She turned to look at the other side her and found a toy horse with all four legs and a full fluffy tail. It was solid black save for the pale gray around its feet and end of its snout. That wasn't there before. She reached out and picked it up off the table. She found a small tag taped to the bottom of the horse's belly. She pulled it off and read it. It was only a few short words.

"To: Emily. From: Mr. Black," She whispered, but she didn't know anybody named Black.

Or did she? Giving the toy horse another good look over, she noticed a strange similarity between the toy and… She set her jaw as she looked at the toy in a new light. So he really was real? The Boogie Man had protected her! This horse even had a similar coloring to the Boogie Man. She smiled slightly and pulled the horse close to her. Grant it no one would believe her but at least she would always know he was real.

* * *

Pitch sat on the hospital's roof looking out over the city. She had liked the toy, which he was thankful for. This would be the last time he would visit her. It was his way of saying good bye. He looked up at the night sky; in particularly at the moon. He growled a bit and drummed his fingers on the cement ledge.

"And just what are you looking at, huh? This really was a onetime thing!" Pitch yelled at the moon. "Don't get your hopes up, old friend. Hero business is too much work. I only did it because I was there, not because I actually wanted to help her."

Pitch spun around putting his back to the moon. If MiM even once thought this would make Pitch a better person he was dead wrong. One lowly little girl wasn't going to change anything. He'd come up with a new plan sooner or later to be rid of the Guardians. A bigger and better plan than ever before. One little girl wasn't going to make a difference in him.

Pitch looked over his shoulder up at the moon again. How irritating. He got up and sat in the shadow of a large AC unit. At least now he was out of MiM's ever watchful eye. He let out a sigh and looked down at the dirty rooftop. He would only save that one girl. He had seen other things far worse than even that. He still didn't know why this one incident affected him in such a way. But now that it was over and he'd wash his hands of it. As far as he was concerned it never happened. It was nothing more than a momentary lapse in judgment. He just accidently became a hero that one and only time. He wasn't going to let it happen again. He wasn't going to give MiM that satisfaction. Nope. Never again. He had an evil reputation to protect after all.

(A/N That's the end of that! I wrote this story to see a lighter side of Pitch. However, child abuse is no laughing matter. If you know or think you know of child abuse happening contact the police or social services. If it's someone you know at the school tell the school staff and they will contact to correct people. Abuse can happen to any child no matter the age. You should never turn a blind eye to it. I had a neighbor using his daughter for child pornography, which sort of inspired this story. Also don't be a bully. Please, don't be a bully. What you might think is a simple joke could be really hurtful to someone else. There is that fine line and we have to be careful about crossing it. Thank you for taking the time to read this.)

Millie M. Banshee


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